Solace
by CityTrain
Summary: Marian Hawke hasn't always been comfortable in the city. AU. One-shot.


In the city, I never found solace. It was an elusive thing that slipped away from my grasp like water. The lack of solace was instead a persistent buzz and hum of noise that penetrated my brain like a parasite. Inescapable, destructive and maddening. I always wondered why I didn't develop a mental illness from it.

I found myself standing in the middle of the busy side walk. Men and women rushed past me without and consideration for what surrounded them. I found that insufferable; how could someone not even pay attention to what surrounded them? There were trees, people and building around to amaze and study. Their blindness for the world made me feel a deep sadness in my chest.

I moved along, trying to absorb my surroundings: Birds danced along the sidewalks looking for food, the fashions that people adorned were varied and the buildings loomed over me. One foot in front of the other pushed me along and into a coffee shop.

Large bells tied to the door jingled cheerfully as I pushed the door open. It smelled of warmth and happiness inside. The red and orange walls made me feel like it was hot in the shop. The sofas, plush chairs and tables were scattered artlessly. The only customer in the store sat in a large red chair in the corner.

The barista was a brunette with her hair bundled above her headband and her clothing was bohemian. Her blue and gold skirt tinkled with little bells and her hemp sandal heels clunked heavily on the floor. She reminded me of the goddess of fertility art from thousands of years ago; she was buxom and her breasts were barely contained. She radiated wisdom of the old world, much like a pirate.

She turned to me, a large smile on her face. "What can I get for you, kitten? You look like you need solace from being in the city. It rips at my soul too." Her eyes looked full of wisdom and understanding. My mother would've called her an old soul.

"I agree," my alto voice stumbled out. "Give me something that'll give me what I need. Solace or whatever," I blurted, not really thinking. I sounded like a seventeen year old girl. My age never really showed through or did my college education.

She smiled. "I have just the thing." I looked at her and it seemed that her eyes had lit up.

"Go sit down where ever you want, dear," she watched me reach into my bag, looking for my wallet and smiled. "Put that away. Money always causes suffering."

I tried to smile and thank her but she moved away too quickly for me to try and speak. A little confused by the woman's words, I moved near the man who occupied the red chair. He smiled at me, much like the woman. It was like he knew me and everything I was. For some reason, it was comforting.

He reached his hand out towards me, moving his newspaper to the table next to him. "Anderson," he introduced himself. "But call me, Anders."

I moved my small hand into his strong grip. "Marian," I responded, with a pleasant smile. Anders looked tall and was smartly dressed in a business suit. His blonde hair was neat in a small tail, as was everything else about him. I suddenly felt embarrassed in my pea coat and jeans; I looked like a mess compared to him. I squirmed a little in my matching red chair. He grinned at me.

"It's a cute little place isn't it? I like to come here on my lunch hour or skip meetings. I own a medical company so I don't feel like I really need to be there," he spoke without me asking. I felt like he was treating me like an old friend.

"I've never been here before," I admitted.

"Trust me, it won't be your last. It's a nasty addiction. Much like meth," he chuckled at his joke.

I eyed him again. It was unusual for people to randomly start talking to me. "One cup of solace for the little lady," the woman sang out as she handed the mug of steaming liquid to me. I moved the mug next to my lips and sipped at the liquid. It tasted like the country side and childhood. Closing my eyes, I pictured the little farm I used to live on; the memory was making me fill whole again, much unlike the city.

"Do you feel better?" Anders asked.

"Yes," I breathed. His eyes drilled once again into me and the woman behind the counter smiled to herself. They were god-like to me. I couldn't explain it. My brain kept flickering back to happy memories and the chair sucked me in tighter. It was solace in this coffee shop.

I drained the cup and teased the last drops down. Opening my eyes, the coffee shop faded away like when water hits chalk art on the sidewalk.

I shook my head and laughed at myself. "Marian, you can't keep giving yourself false hope," I mumbled to myself. "God... I know this city is killing me. Why can't I leave?"

I heard feet shuffle behind me. I turned around and in the hallway of my tiny apartment stood Anders. "Why, my dear Marian, we don't want to leave what makes us miserable. It's comfortable."

I looked to the window and sighed loudly. "Sadly, yes. It also makes us see things and go mad, doesn't it Anders?"

My empty apartment gave no reply.

_A/N: This was at first an original piece, but I changed the names and some details about the woman. Wouldn't someone who grew up in the country side eventually lose it in a massive city? I know I did when I left the city and spent a month without technology and the nearest town was 30 miles away. It was total solitude in the wilderness. Also, this was a slight study on mental illness and feeling like one is outside of society's norms and an expression of my own feelings about being always ostracized. The joys of being different... _


End file.
